Express 4 Rendezvous

by A. Supreme

     The early morning sun, and the constant noise of the city streets, disappears as I trot down stone gray steps. I flip a peace-sign to the multi-tasking token booth clerk and race over to the entrance gate.  Swipe my MetroCard in the slot and push my way through...the turnstile makes its familiar mechanical grind.  Along with others, I go down another set of steps, and onto the crowded platform.  Excusing my way past expressionless faces, not really wanting to make eye contact, I walk to the far end of the platform.  Now I am completely surrounded by impatient want-to-be passengers.  There is a dude standing next to me, his head bobbing up and down.  The dude’s iPod is so loud that I’m singing along to the music. 

     Suddenly, in the dense crowd, I spot an attractive face, half-buried in the Daily News paper.  It is a familiar face too, but I do not know from what place.  I must have been putting out some kind of telepathic vibration because she raises her head from the newspaper, and looks right at me.  She smiles. I smile too.  That’s when it hits me...Norman Thomas High School, class of 1986, but I still can not remember a name.  We move toward each other, meeting at a halfway point. She kisses me on the cheek.  Speaking softly but loud enough for me to hear.  We laugh about how long it’s been since those high school days. 

     Musty air blows trash around the platform with increased velocity.  We hear the weighty rumble of an oncoming train, glaring headlights on the forward cab. The south-bound 4 express roars into packed station.  Brakes are applied and the 4 express comes to a screeching halt.  A mass of people crowd in front of the stainless-steel doors before they open.  Automated announcements blare from in-car speakers, “This stop is one-hundred-twenty-fifth street, the next stop is eighty-sixth street”.  There is a cutesy chime...blume-blume...and the subway car doors open. Passengers hurriedly rush off the train, pushing through the standing crowd like Bettis heading for the goal line. 

     My friend and I make no effort to enter the train, but a swarm of bodies literally shove us on board.  Another automated announcement warns to stand clear of the closing doors.  A chime and then the doors close.  The south-bound 4 express lurches forward and begins to accelerate.  Because of the noise we discontinue our conversation, but continue to stare at each other with awkward fascination.  I still can’t remember her name. 

     The 4 express speeds through a maze of sparely-lit tunnels for several minutes.  The train begins to slow down.  I wink at her and mime that I am getting off at the next stop.  She smiles, and then her hand dives into a Coach bag.  She pulls out a gel-filled pen and a torn-off piece of paper.  She scribbles something on the paper just as the brakes bring the train to an unexpected stop.  Then as suddenly as we stopped, we were on our way once again.  Lights flicker and bodies sway with the curves of the iron rails.  She folds the paper and hands it to me.  Reaching over she whispers in my ear, “Read it when you get home." 

     The train rolls into the 86th Street station.  I look through the window, blurred human forms and colors on the platform.  Speed rapidly decreases the forms and colors become visible.  I look deeply into her auburn eyes one last time.  The train comes to a complete stop. I kiss her on the cheek and turn, pushing to get out as others were doing.  I jog up the steps with hundreds of others...rushing to get out of the dreary hole in the ground. 

     I reach street level and am nearly blinded by the sun.  Pressed dark-tinted shades on my face, but I could not wait to read the note she passed to me.  I move out of the way of passersby and unfold it.  I read the fine print out loud: “Renee Davis – Please call me _____ or send an email _____. Sorry I didn’t remember your name.”  I laugh out loud!   

     Hoping that I would not be late, I look at my wristwatch and go on my way.

A. Supreme is a published author and screenwriter from New York City. Visit his website: http://www.publishedauthors.net/asupreme